The Unexpected Arrivals of Winter, MotG Story 3
by Kayzel
Summary: Christmas at Glenbogle promises to be bittersweet for the MacDonalds. Guests are due, some, unexpected. Will they all knit neatly together like separate strands of wooly fibers awaiting such a task? Or is this yarn doomed to unravel?
1. Chapter 1

_The storylines in **The Unexpected Arrivals of Winter** follow those of my stories titled: **Assumptions **MotG Story #1 and **A Thousand Miles** MotG Story #2._

_I do not own any of the characters in **Monarch of the Glen** or **As Time Goes By** or their respective worlds but have enjoyed creating this Fan Fiction._

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_**The Unexpected Arrivals of Winter**_

Winter in the Highlands of Scotland, though it be kissed with a frigid, lonely air is no less breathtaking then in any other season, especially on the environs of the Glenbogle Estate where the majestic purple mountains are capped with a thicker coating of crisp white snow and even the greyest of skies possesses a luminous quality.

Life at the estate over the past several months had been anything but uneventful. The tragic passing of Hector MacDonald—husband, father, brother and head of the household had certainly thrown the family into a tailspin. And in the midst of this shift, before all had fully recovered from Hector's loss, before his son Archie had completely come into his own as the newly-crowned Laird and they'd even had time to adjust to an existence without him, Hector's long-lost younger brother Donald had come knocking on their door.

Welcomed back to Glenbogle—though only marginally by some, the incorrigible Donald MacDonald, in an attempt to fit in, did his best to temper his scheming ways while still maintaining a certain sense of dignity and self-worth. But no one, not even the fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants Donald was prepared for the discovery that awaited them all. That Donald had sired a son, Paul Donald Bowman, of which no one was aware.

There had also been some surprising happy news as well; Archie and Lexie were expecting their first child. And although Molly MacDonald was thrilled for her son and daughter-and-law, the near-overwhelming grief and anger she felt towards her late husband had almost threatened to keep her happiness at bay. Molly knew what strength it would take to pull herself up from the depths of despair, for she had done so once before when her eldest son had an accident on the loch and had lost his life at the young age of 18. It was Molly who had rallied the family together back then, and so too, would she do it again.

Inviting a long-lost friend to Glenbogle for the holidays, someone whom Molly had shared a history and past with, did indeed seem exactly what she needed. And so it was that Jean and Lionel Hardcastle (characters from **_As Time Goes By_**) were presently journeying north.

Jean and Lionel's own story was a rocky but romantic tale. They had been young sweethearts, Jean a nurse and Lionel a soldier. Shipped off to war with his troops, the faithful Lionel wrote to Jean as promised, but his letter became lost in the post and they lost touch for some 40 years or so before fate eventually brought them together once again. Both having been previously married, the easy-going Jean Pargetter, widowed with one child—a daughter named Judy, ran a successful secretarial agency and had a penchant for innocently meddling in other people's affairs—which often times landed her in hot water. And the custard-tart-fancier Lionel Hardcastle, a cantankerous divorcé who'd owned and operated a coffee plantation in Kenya and had returned to England to write a book about his experiences. As older sweethearts, Jean and Lionel finally marry, choosing to reside in Jean's house in London (which she shared with her now-grown daughter) where, after some time, Jean's secretary from the agency, Sandy, also moves in.

_**Chapter1**_

_**As Time Goes By the Glen**_

"I just wish you'd phone for directions."

"Lionel, I _have_ the directions." Jean Pargetter Hardcastle looked wide-eyed out the car window at the ever-increasing bucolic scenery whizzing by. An atlas opened to a map of Northern Scotland with various areas circled in red and flagged with bits of sticky paper was splayed out on her lap. In her left hand she clutched a few printed sheets the first of which was titled: _**Driving Route From**__: Kendal, Cumbria to Glenbogle Highland, __**Distance:**__ Approx. 259 miles,__** Travel Time:**__ Approx. 4 hours 51 mins._ Several other pages detailing the route they had taken from their home in Holland Park, Kensington London to the quaint Bed & Breakfast in Kendal the day before were tucked into the auto's overhead visor.

"Yes, but a lot of good it's doing us." After driving for some time they'd finally passed over the Scottish border and Lionel was getting a bit antsy. Scratching irritatingly at the wiry gray hair of his sideburns he kept his watery eyes, which were wearied and dulled with age—_the spark's gone right out of 'em_, he was fond of saying—fixed on the roadway ahead. This look of deep concentration coupled with his air of ever-present direness made the good-hearted and mild-mannered man appear the tired, mean old soul. Some had been so bold as to openly wonder why Jean would put up with such a petulant bore, but Jean knew better. Because she had known him when.

"Look Lionel, I told you, I want to surprise Molly." Jean adjusted the cashmere shawl she had draped across her shoulders and ran a set of burgundy varnished nails through her head of cropped, neat hair. Although most women could not carry it off, Jean had been blessed with a near perfectly-shaped head which took quite well to very short hairstyles. She'd never had the courage to shear off all of her locks in her youth when stick-thin models slunk round London sporting such dos, but in her older years she was much more inclined. With age came a sense of understanding and wisdom and even more importantly the chutzpah to say _damn it all, I shall do as I like_!

"Surprise her," Lionel exasperatingly insisted, his voice raising an octave, "but Molly knows you're coming!"

"I know, I know but she doesn't know exactly when. Why must everything be planned with you?"

"Argh," Lionel grumbled, "it just makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Yes, like loading the dishwasher from the back," Jean chided. Lionel, a stickler for this logical method of stacking items in the washing appliance, had asserted his position so many times as a guest in Jean's kitchen and then later as a member of the family he was given exclusive rein over this tedious chore.

"Mmm-hmm! It's just common sense is all."

"Oh! Look! I can see it! I can see it!"

"You can see what, the house?" Lionel bent his head to get a better look out the auto's front windscreen. "Or perhaps a clearer road sign?"

"No, it's something entirely better. I see a Scots Pine—well several, actually. Oh, Lionel," Jean took a deep breath, quite content, "they're just beautiful, aren't they?"

"You know we do have pines in England, Jean."

"Yes, but these, these are in Scotland!"

Lionel grumbled again, "Stopping over in Cumbria yesterday," he mumbled to himself, "We should have just stayed seaside in that nice, warm B & B in Kendal where I could still be in bed right now ringing up for a hot cuppa."

_**Glenbogle Estate **_

_**Donald MacDonald's Attic Bedroom**_

Donald was a comical sight standing as he was with his hulking frame hunched over his little porcelain-basined attic bedroom sink. Clumsily he turned off the taps then felt around for a towel to dry his face, pressing a deep purple terry cloth into his closed eyes and around his jowls before draping it, bunched, on a worn circle of brass which was affixed to the attic's slanted stone wall with some sort of light gray mastic. His mind was elsewhere, thinking about what his son Paul Bowman had written in his letter from a few months prior which Donald had re-read earlier that morning. Though it had taken some time for him to respond, Donald knew Paul would eventually write him. After all, as hard a life as the boy had had Paul's late mother Megan raised him to have good manners and also, it seemed, with a fairly decent work ethic, too.

With their second visit—this time planned—a mere few days away, Donald had to figure out how he was going to tell the rest of the MacDonald family that they were to be expecting a visitor. Since the Laird of Glenbogle, his very own nephew Archie had put him on a sort of hands-off probation after the salmon-smoking fiasco Donald had been maintaining a very low profile. This wasn't to say however that he was keeping his nose entirely clean. As he paced along the creaking floorboards of his modest attic bedroom, pondering with rapt consternation his situation he peered out one of the windows that overlooked the front landscape and watched as a single flake of snow, seeming to appear from nowhere, drifted slowly past view, dissolving instantly as it hit the rippled-glass pane. Though unseasonably late, it was the first ground-level snowfall of the winter.

_**En Route to Glenbogle Estate**_

_**Jean and Lionel Hardcastle**_

"I just don't understand why you didn't want to spend Christmas at home this year." Lionel headed into a roundabout, searching for the second exit which would lead them to the A9 heading to Perth. "I mean what about Judy and Sandy?"

"It's not that I didn't want to spend the holidays at home, Lionel. Both Judy and Sandy had already made plans of their own, it was just to be you and I spending the holiday together and," Jean raised her voice, anticipating a flippant remark from her husband, "before you make some other wisecrack, I honestly would have enjoyed spending the holiday alone with you. It's just that, well I don't know. Look, Lionel why are you being so obstinate about this, hmm? We're here now and besides, we were both invited."

"Yes but why now, after all these years?"

"Why not now? It was such a fluke in the first place, Judy and Alistair meeting Molly at the art installation in Edinburgh as they did. I mean what were the odds? It's such a small world really! When Molly phoned to catch us up, telling me about Hector's tragic passing and her youngest child's marriage oh, I don't know. It seemed so much time had slipped away, yet there we were on the line still laughing at the same jokes still saying the same sentences simultaneously as if we were twins. We just had to see each other again to rekindle an old, dear friendship. Oh Lionel," becoming more nostalgic, Jean's voice softened, "don't you ever wish you could ring up some old chap and relive the past?"

"No, no I don't—I have a hard enough time remembering the present!"

_**Glasgow, Scotland**_

_**University**_

**Jessica MacKenzie's Journal Entry**

**23 December 2002**

_I must be daft! I'm sitting outside right now on one of the benches—my favorite bench actually—the one furthest away from the campus library's main door—and it's freezing out! It's Sunday and really quiet—everyone must either be sleeping in or sleeping off an all-night bender. Though most have probably left already travelling for the holiday break. Which is fine with me—it's a wonder I was able to snatch this time for myself—alone! Everything around me seems amplified. These leaves keep falling—they're feather-light but when they hit the overhang above me the impact sounds like someone's lobbing bricks at it. And the noise is continuous—I'm like jumping every 5 seconds! I don't know why I'm so agitated and anxious or why I'm even subjecting myself to this…I guess I'm just trying to feel something. _

_This just isn't working. School I mean. My spirit is much too restless to be cooped up here. All I do is meet the same people, in class, in the dining hall, in study group, in the dorms, hanging out…I mean they're great pals but…I don't know…I'll be graduating soon and it seems everyone else has a clear path planned out for them. I have no job prospects…I don't even know what I want to do with my life…and when someone asks me I don't have an answer for them it's like I become mute or something. I just shrug and hope the conversation turns to someone else. I can't stand feeling so invisible…_

_Christmas is in two days. I don't think I'm going home. I can't deal with my Mum and all of her questions and nagging…she means well, but…Nope. Right, I've decided I'm not going home for break—but I'm not staying here, either!! I'd better get moving!!_

'_Til next time—J _

_**En Route to Glenbogle Estate**_

_**Jean and Lionel Hardcastle**_

"I feel hoodwinked."

"Hoodwinked?" Jean turned all the way round in her seat to face Lionel. "You feel hoodwinked? What on earth for?"

"Because, I agreed to accompany you on this trip without really thinking it through, that's why. You should have gone alone, you know, flown up or something."

"Flown up? Lionel, if you weren't driving I'd punch you on the nose! Why would I have wanted to come alone?"

"Well what am I going to do while you and Molly are snickering in the corner like two schoolgirls?"

"We're not going to be snickering in the corner. It's not as if we're going to leave you all alone, Lionel. Besides, there'll be other people there as well."

"How big is this house, anyway? Have you any idea? Have you ever been?"

"Yes, I have, in fact. David and I visited the MacDonald's once when Judy was very small. He and Hector got along famously which was really surprising because my late husband was a very serious person and Hector had a tendency to be rather silly at times. Maybe that's why he and David got along so well you know opposites attract or something like that." Jean laughed to herself then let the memories drift away from her. "The estate itself is huge, more like a castle, really with 43 or so odd rooms though I don't think all are still in use. You'll see, Lionel. It's a charming, magical place. Oh and Molly has a wonderful garden. Perhaps you might take a few turns round it? The fresh highland air will do you good, it'll help to clear out the cobwebs as they say."

"Okay, yes take a few turns round the garden. So that takes care of one afternoon, what shall I do for the rest of the time then, hmm? Take a dip in the frigid loch?"

"Ah well, I wouldn't advise that! Oh, I don't know Lionel perhaps you could go fishing or game hunting or, yes, that's it! I've got it!" Jean broke out in a fit of laughter. "You could use the time to write! Start work on your next book, the sequel to _My Life in Kenya_!"

Not amused, Lionel quipped, "Yes and I'd title it _Why'd I Ever Leave My Life in Kenya?_"

_**Glenbogle Estate**_

_**Great Entrance Hall**_

"Noooo, Arch, not like that." Lexie MacDonald sat comfortably in one of the upholstered chairs flanking the fireplace in Glenbogle's great entrance hall, patiently watching her husband as he tried in vain to trim a huge Christmas tree.

"I'm sorry Lexie, but hanging tinsel isn't exactly my forte you know!"

"Wait, I'll show you how to, oh! Ow!" Leaning slightly forward, Lexie placed a hand on her rounded stomach.

"Lex, are you all right?" With strands of static-charged tinsel clinging to his hair and various other body parts, Archie tried to free his hands from the silvery filament. "What's wrong? Is it the baby?" Quickly, he attempted to head down the ladder.

"No, no, I'm fine. She's just being a little feisty, is all. We'll make a footy player of her yet, 'eh?"

Archie stopped descending the rungs. "She?"

Lexie raised a hand to her forehead. "Och Archie, I'm sorry. We never did discuss whether or not we wanted to know the sex of the baby ahead of time. I found out myself by accident at my last doctor's visit."

"Lexie?" Archie's voice had gone all tender. "We're going to have a daughter?"

"Yes, Archie MacDonald, Laird of Glenbogle we are going to have our very own wee Princess." Lexie joined her husband, the soon-to-be parents holding fast together in a contented embrace.

"Well, I guess that cuts the baby names list in half doesn't it?"

"Actually I think I know what name I'd like to give our daughter. It's an old family name that I've always liked."

"No, Archie, not like that!" Molly MacDonald breezed into the entrance area squinting up at the tree. A long, faux-holly garland trailing behind her bouncing this way and that depositing red plastic berries along the ancient, intricately-patterned oriental carpets. As she approached the pair she stopped short. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"No," responded the young couple in unison, a silent signal issued between them; they would keep the baby's gender their secret for now.

"Lexie, you should be sitting with your feet up."

"Aw, I'm okay, Molly my ankles aren't swollen yet. I was just trying to give your son here some instruction." As she spoke, Lexie ran her fingers lightly across Archie's chest. The rough fibers of his knitted wool jumper felt so good beneath the smooth pads of skin on her fingertips, she allowed her hand to linger there for a moment before slowly tracing it across and down his upper torso.

"Oh, don't bother. I love my family dearly but they've always been completely useless in the decorating department." Teasing, Archie's expression turned to one of exaggerated hurt. "Yes, I'm sorry Archie, but it's the truth! That's why, Dear," Molly smiled sweetly and then nodded toward Lexie, "it's a good thing you married someone with talent!"

Graciously accepting the compliment, Lexie turned back toward her husband. Pulling a few more strands of tinsel from the ruffled locks of his dark brown hair she placed her arms around his waist and whispered in his ear, "That's okay Sweetheart, you excel in other more important departments." As she rose up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss, she glanced out the front windows, "Look, it's snowing!!"

"Oh splendid," exclaimed Molly, "a good snowfall is just what we need right now! Archie, do be a dear and fetch us a cup of tea while we finish this last tree, will you? I still have the stair rails to trim, then the chandeliers and some of the doorways need mistletoe and, oh, my. Why did I allow myself to wait so long to decorate this year?"

"Now don't be so hard on yourself, Molly," Lexie put a reassuring arm around her mother-in-law, "it has been a tough year."

"You are right, Lexie. But it does feel good to decorate this hall again, doesn't it?"

"Oh aye."

Molly did indeed take pride in decorating the Christmas trees each year but with three larger ones downstairs and a few smaller ones tucked here and there it was an enormous task. Lexie, however, had proven to be quite the qualified apprentice, placing the bulbs in such a way that each swung freely from its designated branch—Molly was a perfectionist and task master when it came to this. In previous years she had stuck by the motto if she wanted it done right she had to do it herself but honestly, there really wasn't a right way she'd finally conceded. Molly simply savored the time spent alone allowing her creativity to flourish, much like she did with her paintings. During the winter holiday breaks from school her daughter Lizzie was always more preoccupied with discovering new ways of escaping from the house and finding the best places to smoke without getting caught, while her sons were more useful transporting all of the many boxes from the attic to the lower floors—though if left unsupervised even that task could have had disastrous results. And, with a husband who deemed decorating as solely ladies work, Molly was gladly left to her own devices.

To Hector's credit however, when all of the adornments were set in place he always did admire her hard work, showing his appreciation by preparing a batch of his special homemade brandy-laden eggnog, then taking his bride on what he'd call a _Nog and Snog_ tour of the trees.

Given Hector's fairly recent passing it was expected that many time-honed traditions, like the huge blue-green spruce always reserved for the main entry hall and generally dripping with crimson ribbons, twinkling lights and shiny silver and gold bulbs, would be omitted this year, Molly having thought twice about displaying such grandeur. But it was the estate's trusted ghillie Golly MacKenzie, who for years had taken it upon himself to hand-pick the most handsome tree who was able to change Molly's mind. This year's offering, he'd gently explained to Molly, had already been eyed by Hector months before her husband's unfortunate demise. It had seemed that one day while Hector had been walking his many dogs about the property he'd spotted the glorious tree and had tagged it with a muffler bearing the MacDonald clan's tartan, thus declaring it a worthy choice. Concurring, Golly had decided that when the time came he would abide by his boss's wishes.

Though not the grandest by far, the second tree, a smaller fir set-up in the library was the one dearest to Molly because it was entirely devoted to the family. She had begun this tradition the year her son Jamie died; a year in which none of them felt especially like celebrating, let alone trimming the house and trees. In a heart-felt attempt to lift the pervasive melancholic mood that clung with determination to the very structure of Glenbogle like a darkened shroud, she managed—as only Molly could—to cajole everyone into being involved. Together they soothed their aching souls as a family through laughter and tears, sharing, remembering and enjoying the memories attached to every childhood Popsicle stick-and-glittered ornament, each telling in turn a specific bauble's unique story as it was lovingly placed on a bough.

The third tree was a very realistic yellowish-green fake which Molly had acquired years and years before when the colors of avocado and russet and mustard were all the rage and therefore was perfectly suitable to the deep apricot wallpaper of the drawing room. Its branches were always embellished with a vast collection of pears in sparkling crystals, burnished bronzes, and rich golds, though no one seemed to remember why or who had started the collection. Swathing it in a pretty plaid ribbon in tones of beige, brown and purple, Molly, a bit ahead of her time, liked to call it the naturaltree.

_**En Route to Glenbogle**_

_**Jean and Lionel**_

"Oh damn and blast! This is just what we needed!" As they reached the final stretch of highway leading to Glenbogle Lionel switched on the windscreen wipers. "At least it hasn't started sticking to the road yet!"

"It's snowing!" Jean didn't even try to conceal her enthusiasm at this latest weather-related development. "Oh how lovely!"

Lionel took a quick peek at the last page of directions, his eyes following the squiggly red line which indicated the long trek through the countryside that would eventually lead to the Estate's drive. "We should have stocked up on some of those Kendal Mint Cakes you saw in the confectioner's last night. If we run out of petrol there's no telling how long it would take for someone to find us!"

_**Glenbogle Estate**_

Glenbogle Estate's Head Ranger, Duncan McKay pushed a wheelbarrow full of gathered pine cones and greenery under the alcove of the house's outside entry, shaking the accumulated snow off his head and the collar and sleeves of his black leather jacket before opening the front door and entering. Always clad in a green and black plaid kilt, heavy socks and work boots, the few inches of bare skin left exposed on his legs had turned a bright red from being in contact with the elements and stung a little as the warmth of the MacDonald home enveloped him.

"Duncan? Come in, come in! It looks like you finished collecting the pine cones just in time."

"Aye Molly, the snowfall's really picking up." Stepping into the entrance hall, Duncan placed a basket of pine cones on a table in the corner before stopping to admire the tree. "You've really outdone yourselves this year, ladies it looks beautiful. Hector would have really been pleased, Molly." Duncan's sweet, kind and thoughtful demeanor—rare qualities to find in any lad were some of the traits the MacDonald family had found most endearing about him.

"Thank you, Duncan. So will you and your Aunt Liz be spending Christmas together?" An Aunt through marriage, Liz Logan McKay, the owner of a small B & B in the village was just about the only remaining relative of Duncan's.

"No, she left for Glasgow this past Friday, gone to visit a cousin of hers for a few weeks. This year she decided to take a proper vacation and close up her Bed & Breakfast. And I can't say I blame her, really. My Auntie never gets a break from her duties at the inn.

"All right then it's settled." Having had a soft-spot for the lad and never wanting him to feel as if he was all alone in the world—although Duncan himself had never once complained about his life or situation, Molly always made every effort to include him in their festivities.

"What's that then?"

"You will spend Christmas with us Duncan, unless you've made other plans?"

"Thanks, Molly. I mean I don't have any other plans but I don't want to intrude, what with your guests arriving and all."

"Nonsense, I would never consider having you join us as an intrusion! Duncan, you are just as much a part of this family as my own son and daughter. Besides, the more the merrier!"

"Okay," he said gratefully, "Then I'd love to! Now," Duncan reached for the ladder Archie had been using, "let's get all of this greenery hung, shall we?"

Progressing methodically around the entrance hall, Duncan draped strings of evergreens and lights over doorways and picture frames, winding them around the pink marble columns near the hall leading to the dining room while Lexie artfully nestled some of the huge pine cones and branches on the mantel.

Molly had just finished rearranging some of the holiday cards they had received, displaying them on a table in the library when upon leaving the room she practically collided with her brother-in-law.

Hector's imposing younger brother Donald MacDonald, thought himself to be the most suave of gentleman, asked expectantly of Molly, "Might I have a kiss?" Standing in the doorway, he pointed to a bunch of mistletoe hanging from the library door. "It's damn-near mandatory, isn't it?"

Cheerfully, Molly unexpectedly obliged, giving Donald a warm peck on his cheek.

"Oh," he said, clearly delighted but surprised.

Molly had kept a firm hold on his arm. "I want you to behave around our guests, Donald."

"Guest?" Donald's eyes widened as he tried to comprehend how she had found out about Paul's imminent arrival.

"Guests, Donald, guests. Look, I told you about this. My friend Jean Pargetter, well she's Jean Hardcastle now—and her husband are visiting for a few days. They're due to arrive sometime today."

"Oh, yes, yes so you did, so you did." Donald felt Molly's gaze boring into him. "I'll be as quiet as a mouse and gentle as a lamb," he reassured her.

Though skeptical, Molly released the hold on his arm, "Good." Smiling, she shook her head, "I'm glad we understand each other, Donald."

_**Glenbogle Estate Kitchen**_

Once again Ewan Brodie, the young self-taught Chef extraordinaire had earned his place as a valuable asset to Glenbogle's meager staff when he offered—completely unprompted to pitch in where needed around the house given Lexie's current condition as he termed it. Though if asked he still maintained that feeding the MacDonald's and their extended family was definitely a full-time gig. Knowing Molly's guests would be arriving during the week he had consulted with both MacDonald women pen-in-hand, taking detailed notes on which rooms needed airing out and sprucing up, finalizing all of the pre-discussed menus and double-checking specific requests, one of which oddly, was plenty of custard tarts.

Thus, with the upstairs guest rooms and loos cleaned and set with fresh linens and towels Ewan began scouring the immense collection of cookbooks on the kitchen shelves in search of a good custard tart recipe. Though he could have simply conducted an internet search the tactile pleasure of opening actual books, some of which were practically as old as Glenbogle itself, held more allure than that of the ease and speed of modern technology.

"Ewan?" Donald rushed into the kitchen, "I need a room, dear boy!" Slightly out of breath, Donald approached the table where Ewan was sitting placing both of his rough, meaty hands on two low stacks of cookbooks. He leaned over the table panting small puffs of air.

"Hey, you got bats in the belfry or something, Donald?" Ewan screwed up his nose reacting either to the foul stench of Donald's breath or the overwhelming odor of musky cologne that clung like an aura in the air surrounding him.

"What? No, it's not for me, it's for my son!"

"Your son? Ah that would be that Paul guy who came charging up here a few months ago then, 'eh?" Ewan resumed his recipe search, "This isn't a bed and breakfast you know. There are rooms for let in the village."

Exasperated by his insolence Donald became more serious, raising his voice, "Now you listen to me, young man. My son, Paul Bowman, is coming for a visit and I need a guest room fixed for him! Did you hear me?"

"Aye I heard you but don't you be gettin' all hot under the collar with me," Ewan slammed the cookbook shut and grabbed the lined piece of paper with his notes, pointing to his scribbled hand-writing. "He's not on my list, ye hear? Does Molly even know he's coming? Wait, does Archie know?"

Resigned, Donald sat down heavily on one of the wooden stools. "No. And I'm sorry for taking it out on you, dear boy. But he's my son. Paul's my own flesh and blood and it's Christmas."

"So what, were you planning on sneaking him in, figurin' Molly wouldn't notice an extra guest?" Donald smiled at this statement as if thinking the idea not half-bad. "What's the big deal, anyway? Just tell them. Okay, he's only Molly's nephew through marriage, but like you said Paul is your son and he's Archie's first cousin. He is just coming for a visit, right?"

"Hmm? Ah, well, um yes." Donald stumbled over his words. "Yes, you've made some good points here." He slid Ewan's page of instructions closer to him. Perusing the list, Donald tried to make out the cryptic notes at the bottom that were labeled _The Surprise_ and were surrounded by drawn stars.

"But, yeh," Ewan eyed Donald suspiciously, "I'll make sure one of the rooms is ready. When's he coming?"

"When? In a few days."

"Och," Ewan nearly blew a gasket. "You mean for Christmas, don't you?!"

"Well, just after, for Hogmanay."

"Whew! We're going to have a full house here then; there'll really be no room at the inn!"

Having found a suitable recipe, Ewan rose from the table and started amassing the ingredients he needed. Donald idly watched as eggs, sugar, double cream and salt were placed down on the table in front of him.

"Hmmm," thought Donald absently, "custard tarts."

********


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2 **_

_**Christmas is A'Comin'—and So Are the Guests**_

Hastily unlocking the front door of his croft, Golly MacKenzie banged the soles of his snow-encrusted work boots on the edge of the doorframe then stepped inside. Unlacing and slipping off his boots he placed each on a thick stack of absorbent newspapers which he'd already laid out for this purpose. He rubbed his hands together, slapping them against his body to try and get the circulation going. Though usually a sensible man, the ghillie never wore cold-weather gloves thus he was now paying the price, left with numbed fingers and chapped, raw skin. Shedding his damp leather jacket he hung it on a peg beside the door and walked stiffly into his living room. As if on cue, the phone began ringing.

"Hullo?"

"Hi. Dad? You're finally in!"

"Jessica? How are you, Lass?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Ah, it's so good to hear your voice! Almost sounds like you're in the next room!"

"Does it? You know it's funny you should say that because I was wondering if you could come pick me up."

"At uni?"

"Nope, I'm not at uni, Dad."

"Just where are you then?"

"I'm at the train station," Jess further qualified, "the _Glenbogle_ train station." Her remark met silence on the other end of the line. "Dad? Dad, are you still there?"

"Aye, aye, I'm here. You stay put, okay? It's snowing out!"

"Aye! Yup, Dad, it's snowing here, too!" Jessica laughed.

"No, what I meant was it may take me a little longer to get there but I'll be there as soon as I can, Lass."

"Okay, Dad! Hey, Dad?"

"Aye?"

"Thanks. See you in a bit."

"Okay, Jess."

Shaking his head at their conversation, Golly wasted no time grabbing his jacket and shoving on his boots again—this time not bothering to tie them. No doubt, he imagined, Jessica's mother, Alison McRaith would have called him beforehand had she known her daughter was preparing to visit. Seeing as she hadn't, he could only assume that either they'd had another major row or something else was brewing. Whatever the case, it would have to be dealt with later. In fact, all Golly could think about now was seeing his daughter and all he could do was smile.

Golly really wasn't a grumpy man, though this was usually how he was perceived. Having lived pretty much all of his life alone on the estate, he was hardened like the rocks and the sturdy grasses that grew there despite the sandy soil and harsh conditions. Underneath all of the tough layers of this self-proclaimed free-spirit stood a very vulnerable soul, aching for the warmth and comfort that only kith and kin could provide. Though whether he was unaware of this fact or simply chose to ignore it was anyone's guess.

_**Kitchen, Glenbogle Estate **_

Ewan Brodie removed the first batch of baked custard tarts from the small cooker, placing the metal sheets on the iron burners of a large black stove. As he approached a side table one of the bells in the service hall rang indicating, as he knew immediately from its unique intonation that someone was at the estate drive's gate. With youth in his favor he sprinted down the long servants' hall in a matter of seconds, rounding the corridor to the right before taking a sharp left toward the butler's pantry. The sweet smell of cooked custard wafted through the halls as if pronouncing his presence.

He picked up a handset which was attached to a complex and archaic intercom system on the wall facing the opening to the pantry. Feeling particularly puckish, his voice sounding as enthusiastic and eager as a game show host on the telly announcing what prize might be behind door number 1, he said, "Glenbogle Bed & Breakfast. Head Chef Ewan speaking. We have a few more rooms open at our 5-star inn but I must warn you, they're at a premium and are going quickly. How may I help you?"

Receiving only a faint, garbled murmur in response, Ewan listened more intently. He could make out two voices, one male the other female, possibly arguing. Figuring Molly's guests had arrived, he decided it might be prudent not to joke around.

"Hello? Hello, is this Glenbogle House? This is Lionel Hardcastle here." In the background, a woman's voice told the man that he should have mentioned her maiden name.

Ewan pulled the handset away from his ear as Lionel—in an attempt to be clearly heard, practically yelled into the device.

"Yes, welcome," said Ewan, "Molly MacDonald is expecting you. Punch the number 666 into the keypad and follow the road straight along until you've reach the drive. That will take you directly to the house."

At this point Lionel began grousing saying, rather rudely, that he could hardly understand such a thick Scottish accent and could the number please be repeated. Upon hearing it again, he balked, "Six-six-six? Now you listen here, lad I don't know what game you're playing at!"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Lionel," Jean admonished, "push the bloody buttons or I'll get out of the car and do it myself!"

Reluctantly, Lionel shouted "Thank you!" into the receiver then put it back in its cradle. He pulled a black leather glove off his right hand and used it to wipe a thick layer of accumulated snow off the keypad before punching in the ominous code. Miraculously the mechanical arm with the white and black chevron-like design slowly lifted, sending clumps of fresh snow showering to the ground, admitting them passage to the mystical kingdom that waited ahead.

_**Glenbogle Estate**_

Hearing Ewan's pronouncement of the guests' arrival, Archie dashed down to the back cellar for some shovels so he and Duncan could clear a pathway on the front drive. A task of this nature would normally only require the sheer muscle power of one fit individual but this area was especially tricky due to the dense layer of gravel covering the compact clay soil earth of the drive. Although great for drainage, the stones made the job of shoveling particularly cumbersome, as one deep scoop could send shards of rock dangerously flying through the air.

Shortly thereafter, a pair of beaming headlights cut through the swirling snow leading Jean and Lionel to their destination.

"My word, Jean," awestruck, Lionel angled for a better look at the house, nearly veering his vehicle clear off the drive into the snow-covered grass. "What a history this building must have."

"Yes, it is glorious isn't it?" Truly at its prettiest, Glenbogle looked a giant gingerbread house, a child's fantasy candy castle of numerous inverted sugar-cone peaks laced with white candy-floss spun snow.

Waving them on, Duncan indicated a side area where they could park. As they emerged from the car, Lionel, who was still marveling at the magnitude of the house didn't seem to notice the cramp that had seized his left leg—a common occurrence for him when traveling long distances or the annoying sniffles which invariably appear after one's been exposed to the cold air.

"Welcome, Mrs. Hardcastle." Archie walked around to the passenger side, offering Jean a hand. He kissed her on both cheeks in greeting.

"Archie! Oh, it's been so long since I've last seen you and why are you being so formal, please, call me Jean," she pointed over the roof of the car towards Lionel, who then joined them, "and this is my husband Lionel."

"Welcome to Glenbogle, Lionel." The two men shook hands.

"Thank you," said Lionel, smiling, "It must cost a fortune to heat this place."

"Um, yes, well," Archie shrugged.

Embarrassed by her husband's tactless remark, Jean whacked Lionel on the arm. As the couple started quibbling under their breath, Archie thought to change the subject by introducing the estate's Head Ranger, Duncan McKay and urging his guests to follow him inside and out of the driving snow.

"If you open up the boot," suggested Duncan, "I'll be happy to take your luggage in for you." Lionel did as asked and when he tried to lift a case to help and was told it absolutely wasn't necessary, leaving him with no need to resort to a sudden back spasm or similar malady so as to have help proffered to him, he was positively giddy.

_**Glenbogle Train Station**_

Managing to find the one surface protected by an overhang, Jess propped her rucksack behind her, zipped her parka all the way up the collar and threw the fur-trimmed hood over her head, burrowing deep inside the jacket. Sitting with one leg crossed over the other, her hands in her pockets and her _ipod_—which was surprisingly still receiving a signal from somewhere—set on mix, she waited patiently for her father, keeping herself warm by moving to the beat of the tunes.

"Jess? Jess, is that you?"

Jess removed the _ipod's_ white earpieces and sprang to her feet, waving wildly at her father.

"Yes, yes, it's me," she yelled into the falling snow, "I'm the only person inane enough to be travelling to this out-of-the-way-place in all of this! The conductor almost didn't let me off the train you know, fearing I might be stranded here all alone!!" She gave her father a great bear hug.

Golly grabbed her rucksack and ushered her to the truck.

Settling back into the warmth of the auto, Jess pulled off her hood and removed the elastic from her blond, shoulder-length hair, letting it fall loosely about. Golly carefully backed out of the station then slowly got them on the road.

"Well I'm sorry to say, but this might not have been one of your wisest plans, Lassie! You might've still been sitting out here if I hadn't happened by my croft just then and answered the phone. How long had you been here?"

"Not for too long, but it was fine, really. You should think about getting a mobile." Golly grumbled and waved one of his hands in an, _who needs modern technology_ gesture. "Dad, what happened to your hands?"

"Och!" Golly glanced down at his roughed-up hands clutching the Land Rover's steering wheel at the proper position of 2 and 10. "It's what you call the casualties of a hard day's work is all."

"Dad your hands are chapped and they're bleeding! What happened to those leather gloves I sent you? Didn't you get them, you said you did."

"Oh aye, I received them Jess, yes. But with the weather conditions as they are up here, they're too nice to wear out. They'll get ruined in no time."

"But I got them for you _specifically_ because they're treated with a special weather repellent. Oh, come on, Dad! You can't take them with you, you know! Wear them!"

"Okay, okay. So who's the parent here anaway then?"

"And I've got this great hand butter you can use on them now, to help them heal."

"Butter? What? You want me to put butter on my hands? Are you turning into one of them nature-lovers, Jess?"

"Wuh? Oh, no." Jess giggled at her father's faux pas, "No, it's not _dairy_ butter, Dad. Butter is just a name they use for products like thick hand creams and such—although sometimes they do contain certain butters in the form of shea or coco. Och!" She giggled again, "Butter! Dad you slay me! I'll give you this much, the one I have has this delicious coconut scent and smells almost good enough to eat!"

"Hmmm," Golly groaned again then gave his daughter a quick wink.

_**Glenbogle Estate**_

With hugs and kisses, introductions and hellos sufficiently completed all around, Duncan and Archie led Jean and Lionel to their rooms. The guests had a difficult time keeping up with the younger fellows not because the steps of the main stairs were too steep or too many or because the pace was too quick or they were too travel-weary. There were just so many things of interest displayed along the grand carved-wood staircase and on the many niches and little tables so as to distract one's attention. A slow progression was inevitable. The collection of taxidermy animals, both in glass cases and out in the open, were such superb specimens, that even if not a fan of the art—which Lionel certainly was not—were absolutely captivating; seemingly ready to take a nip at an errant finger which had unknowingly neared too close or able to, at any second, take flight from their perennial posts. There were ornate framed pictures of family members represented throughout the centuries, swords and sabers and other pieces of armor baring the MacDonald crest and a variety of smaller heirlooms. And even more impressive were the massive, gild-framed paintings of kilted Scotsmen done in brilliant oils and hung high on the walls, standing like brave sentinels silently guarding and protecting the Estate's corridors.

But one of the finest examples of family-related objet d'art, situated in a hallway that led to the private quarters, the family bedrooms and such, set-off against a wall painted a radiant blue, was a plaque of an elaborately-carved family tree. Immediately catching Jean's eye, she stopped just before it to admire its beauty.

"This is absolutely lovely, Archie. Surely it was hand-made?"

"Yes, Mother and I had it made for Lexie. We gave it to her for her birthday this year." Despite the increasing pain he was feeling from the handles of the heavy cases digging into his hands, Archie lingered, gazing in the direction of the family tree, unaware that he was grinning. Sensing by Jean's expression that she was curious as to his silence, he stated with joy, "It was also the day that Lexie told me she was pregnant!"

Resuming their procession down another hall which ran perpendicular to the family's wing and was also painted bright blue on the top half with beige wallpaper along the bottom, they stopped about half way down just before an indented section which had a door to the left and right. At first Jean thought they might be given separate bedrooms under some complicated and antiquated Scottish law because, goodness knows, there were plenty of those. But as they soon discovered a suite of rooms had been prepared for them. The room on the left was a rather large bedroom, with a set of corner windows that over-looked the front drive—to which Jean later proclaimed when looking out them and admiring the still-falling snow that it appeared as if she were standing in a huge snow-globe! The room to the right was a cozier sitting room with a simpler fireplace than the green-tiled one with the black marble mantel found in the guest room, two stuffed armchairs set diagonally from the fire and a small settee situated near the room's only window. With a few small tables and lamps strewn about, it made the perfect place for reading, napping or having a quiet tete-e-tete.

Being left on their own until dinner that evening, Jean opened the huge wardrobe near the door of the guest room, assessing its available space before unpacking their suitcases, while Lionel prepared to leave.

"Lionel, where are you going?"

"I'm going to find the loo. I want to know exactly where it is so that when I get up in the middle of the night searching for the hopper, I don't accidentally stumble into someone else's room!" Figuring there was no point in arguing, Jean happily went back to her unpacking.

By the time Ewan brought to the guest room a tray of tea, biscuits, and of course, custard tarts—for it was Lionel who had a particular liking for the small treat, the couple was comfortably relaxing in the sitting room, Lionel's cantankerous attitude having all but completely dissolved.

********


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

_**What has the Storm Brought with It?**_

"Good, glad you're both here." Archie entered the kitchen, addressing Duncan and Ewan. "I've been tracking the weather conditions on the internet and it looks like we're really in for a doozy of a storm. I think you'd better ring your Mum, Ewan. Tell her you'll be staying on with us through Christmas." Ewan nodded in agreement. "Then I'd better do a check of all the entrances around the house, make sure the paths are cleared. Duncan, I think you should go out and check on the animal pens. You're staying here for Christmas too, right?"

"Oh aye, your Mum invited me Christmas Day, yea, Arch."

"Well given the circumstances I think you'd be better off staying up here for tonight and for the next couple of days. Check on your croft during your rounds and get whatever you need. We'll use the walkie-talkies to keep in touch with one another, all right?"

"All right, Arch!"

"One more thing, have either of you heard from Golly?" Both indicated they hadn't. "I tried calling his croft but I just keep getting a busy signal. Ah well, let's keep an eye out for him too, shall we? We'd better get moving now. I'll be in touch with you both."

_**Glenbogle Estate Property**_

_**Golly MacKenzie's Croft**_

Not so much a creature of habit as a fan of doing what works, before entering his house Golly repeated the process of knocking the snow off his boots and placing them on the newspaper. Seeing this, Jess simply jumped up and down a few times on the concrete stoop then, deeming the soles of her shoes sufficiently un-clumped, she plodded on into the house, her still-wet boots squeaking with every step sending shivers down Golly's spine.

Though just nearly late afternoon the croft seemed very, very dark, to the point where Jess proclaimed aloud that she could have sworn her father resided as a hermit or recluse of some sort with the curtains and shades tightly closed. Disputing this, Golly moved ahead to flick on a light switch in the kitchen. The lights did not go on. He proceeded to the little lamp on the counter, a tiny pottery number that he'd bought in the village for next to nothing from a young female artist who seemed the very poster child for the moniker of starving artist. And still nothing happened.

"Geez, Dad, I know things must be tough round here but are you not paying the bills?"

Ignoring the remark, Golly opened the fridge and tested the phone. Neither was working. Clearly, he surmised, the power was out, some of the phone lines must have been down and the back-up generator was not producing enough juice to support the entire croft.

"So? What now?" Jess asked rather relishing another adventure. "Are we going to pitch a tent? Or should we bunk up with the wolves?"

"No, I'm afraid we'll have to go up to the Big House," using the familiar phrase in reference to the estate, the ghillie felt its significance all the more keenly. Having to rely increasingly on the Big House, Glenbogle, and its occupants was for him, the most self-reliant of chaps, one of the hardest things he'd had to face through the years. But his prudent side won. Common sense was the first rule, always. It trumped pride. Especially considering that he had family in tow.

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind putting us up for a few nights," he continued, "just until we get this all sorted out."

"Oooo, that sounds like fun, the downstairs mingling with the upstairs!"

"That'll do Jess! They'd be doing us a favor, all right? They don't have to put us up so please be on your best behavior."

"Okay, Dad," Jess whined, "I mean I do know how to act all proper, I am in my last year at uni, you know, or have you forgotten?"

"Oh aye, I haven't."

"I can curtsey with the best of 'em, Da!"

"Jess!"

"Och, I'm just kidding!"

"Let me go get some things together for myself. Are you hungry?"

"No, not really but I suppose I should clean out anything that could possibly spoil in your refrigerator. Although," Jess bolstered herself against the chilly air, exhaling white puffs of warm breath, "it's probably cold enough in the croft."

While Golly climbed the stairs to his bedroom, Jess headed into the kitchen, grabbing from a nearby shelf what she thought might be a flashlight. Shining the torch's light into the cavity of the small fridge she wasn't surprised to see there wasn't much to clear out but a bit of moldy cheese, a half-eaten tin of _**Kilwillie's Luxury Foods**_ sardines and some bottles of beer. If nothing else resulted from this visit, keeping more in touch with her father was definitely high on her list of priorities.

_**Dining Room, Glenbogle Estate **_

The dining room was set somewhat informally as the more elaborate meal would be reserved for Christmas Eve the following night. Though for that evening's supper, Ewan's menu of simple, yet sumptuously-prepared fare wasn't exactly on-par with take-away either. The guest couple and the MacDonald family dined on a rich, velvety, butter-nut squash soup, a roasted root-vegetable salad and baked pork chops served with warm apple-raisin compote.

While the others eagerly tucked into their meals however, Archie found it hard to enjoy his. Constantly popping into the butler's pantry, he checked his laptop for the latest weather reports, communicating with Duncan via the two-way radio. No one could blame him for this but nevertheless, it was still a bit distracting. With Lexie and Molly sitting to his left and Jean and Lionel to his right, Donald, acting the consummate host, kept the conversation flowing, skillfully drawing attention away from his nephew who was sitting at the opposite head of the table.

_**The Land Rover, En Route to Glenbogle**_

His hands now adorned with the weather-proofed gloves, Golly carefully drove his truck beyond the Estate's garages and through the arced entrance to the courtyard. With the snow just about up to their knees, Golly went ahead of Jess, telling her to follow in his tracks. Fortunately for her she had the advantage of height and long legs so her stride matched her father's almost perfectly. Nearing the back entrance, the depth of the snow there diminished; it appeared Archie had already shoveled the area once or twice before—just as Golly had taught him to do—and he made a mental note to return every few hours or so to keep the path clear. Removing smaller amounts of snow more frequently from heavily-trafficked areas resulted in an easier job all around.

Though the Ghillie did not remove his wet boots as per customary in his house during this type of weather, he did scrape them thoroughly on the jute mat that lay at the foot of the back stairs, encouraging his daughter to do the same so as not to slip on the polished floors. As they ascended the winding staircase, stopping at a landing which opened onto a dimly-lit hall leading to the kitchen corridor, Jess paused briefly, listening to the sounds of laughter and conversation from a room somewhere within the depths of the house. As the delicious scents of the kitchen tempted her making her stomach growl, she followed her father down the hall.

"Golly! You're here! Everyone's been looking for you." Ewan spotted Jess. "Hey, and who might this pretty young lass be then?"

"This is my daughter, Jessica."

"Hiya!" Jess spoke up boldly before Ewan had a chance to say anything and, walking clear across the room to the huge black stove, she passed right by his outstretched hand. Ewan stood, staring in her direction, a sly grin on his face.

"Wow, something smells amazing! Mmmm, what's this?"

Lifting the lid on one of the pots which contained a dark liquid with little bits and pieces of things floating in it, she reached for a spoon to pinch a wee taste when Ewan shouted, "No!"

Dropping the lid with a loud clatter, Jess backed away from the stove, saying sorry with an air of attitude.

"No, it's just," Ewan attempted to explain his outburst, "well that there's a pot of simmering scents." This time it was Golly who had a laugh at Jessica's expense. "You know, water stewing with some cloves, cinnamon sticks and a touch of orange rind. It perfumes the air real nice. Anyway, are you two hungry? I've plenty of food here. Why don't you sit down and I'll fix you both a plate."

"Aye okay, you tuck in, lass. I'm sure you'll enjoy. Despite Ewan's inflated ego, he's actually an amazing cook."

"What do you mean, Dad? Where are you going?"

"First I want to let Archie know that we're here and to ask him about us staying for a few nights. Then I should see to the animals."

"You're going back out in this?"

"I have to, lass. It's my job, love."

"Aye well, Archie sent Duncan out to check on all of the pens," Ewan informed Golly, "the animals are probably doing what they naturally do during snow storms, hunkering down and trying to keep warm. You know if you're looking for a room, you can always bunk with me."

Though the offer was clearly meant for Jess, Golly responded, "Thank you, what an honorable gesture, Ewan. If it's all the same, I prefer to have my own room."

As Ewan scowled and Jess giggled, the ghillie took his leave.

_**Dining Room, Glenbogle Estate**_

Hearing the radio device crackling again, Archie leapt from the dining table and ran into the pantry to answer it, closing the door behind him.

"Arch?"

"Yeah, go ahead, Dunc."

"The pens are all secure," there was static on the line, "and the animals are all safe."

"Great," Archie answered, "Where are you now?"

"I'm at my croft."

"Any sign of Golly?"

"No but the power is out down here. Do you want me to check his croft?"

"No, I think it best you just make your way back here. Golly's resourceful, I'm sure he'll be okay."

"Aye, yea, all right then. I'm heading back in," was Duncan's scratchy response.

"Archie?" Concerned, Lexie had opened the dining room door and stepped into the pantry. "Is everything okay?"

"Well yes the animals are secured but no one has heard from Golly."

"Och, where could that foolish old man be?"

Archie took his wife's hand in his. "We have to think positively, Lex. I'm sure Golly's okay." As if saying this out loud were enough to convince him of its truth.

"You're right, you're right. Aye well Molly wants to have coffee and dessert in the library."

Archie gave her hand one last squeeze before letting it go. "Fine, I'll go and tell Ewan. And listen, Lex don't say anything to the others just yet. There's no need to alarm Mother or the guests."

"Yea, okay you're right, I'm sure."

*****

Heading back down to the kitchen, Archie spotted Golly. "Golly, you're all right?"

The ghillie swung around to face him. "Yes, yes son."

"I tried calling you. Jessica? Hello."

"Hiya!"

"I didn't know you were visiting your Dad for the holidays."

"He didn't, either. Actually, come to think of it, I didn't know myself. It was kind of a last-minute decision."

"Ah well, you picked a heck of a time to travel. Did you arrive today?"

"Yup, I called good ol' Dad here from the train station."

Archie eyed Golly, trying to get his read on the situation. "Duncan just radioed in; he said the power was out in his croft."

"Aye, same here, the generator must be down, too. Listen, Archie we, Jess and I, were wondering if we might…"

"Please, Golly no need to even ask. I'll have Ewan set up some more rooms for you."

"Tch," replied Ewan, testily.

Catching this, Jess spoke up. "Um you know Archie we don't want to be any trouble for you and I'm sure Ewan has enough to do. It sounds like you might have some company staying," Jess rose and stood beside her father. "Honestly, if you point me toward the linen closet I can fix up the rooms for me and Dad. I did learn something being on my own at uni! And anything else I can do to help please, just ask all right?" Golly put his arm on his daughter's shoulders, drawing her closer to him.

"Well thanks Jess, that's kind of you to offer." Archie noticed that Ewan had set out two bowls of soup. "Why don't you two enjoy your meal and I'll be back in a bit. Ewan, we're just about ready for coffee and dessert. Mother would like it set up in the library."

"Aye, aye, boss."

As Archie turned to leave he heard a loud bang coming from somewhere beneath the kitchen.

"Did you hear that?" Archie questioned the others. "Shhh, listen."

Sure enough they all heard a loud boom boom boom!

Standing near the sink, Ewan pointed to the stairwell just to his left. "It sounds like it's coming from down there."

With Golly and the others following closely behind, Archie raced through the kitchen and down the stairs, shouting out, "Hello? Hello? Who's there?"

Though no one seemed to respond the pounding resumed again.

Reaching the door, Archie yanked it open. Whomever it was standing before him was completely covered in snow.

"Paul?"

"Surprised you could recognize me, Archie" shouted the figure, "Ha-ha I'm the a-Paul-minable snowman!"

********


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Looking Back…but Moving Forward**_

Entering the library, Donald and Lionel immediately made themselves comfortable, settling near the crackling fire while the women walked on through.

Lionel glanced at the enormous collection of books on the library shelves and read aloud, "Carroll, Dickens, Scott, Stevenson—my, my they've all the classics, hmm?"

"Yes and there are quite a few first editions, too." Donald handed his guest a 2-finger glass of Scotch. Lionel accepted it graciously, nodding a silent thank you. "Hector was quite the collector especially of Stevenson though I never much cared for the author's work, all that mystery and macabre. Gives one the willies, doesn't it? Nope, hand me any of Sir Compton Mackenzie's great works, _The Passionate Elopement_, _Carnival_, _Whisky Galore_ and I'm as content as a pig in, well, you know, Lionel."

*****

Molly opened the doors that connected the library to the drawing room, giving Jean a short tour.

"Molly, this room is wonderful, oh and this tree is gorgeous," Jean reached out to touch a branch, "oh, is this one the fake one?"

"Why yes, it is. Do you remember it, Jean?"

"Definitely I do." Jean pointed to Molly but spoke to Lexie, "This one always had to have the latest thing out on the market. I mean, it's ironic when you think about it," she addressed Molly frankly, as only a dear friend could, "you literally live amongst fields and fields of some of nature's most beautiful trees, and the one thing you covet most is a bloomin' fake tree!" They all chuckled. "Oh, wait—I nearly forgot! Now where did I leave it?" Jean paused for a moment, thinking, "Ah," she snapped her fingers, "It's in the library! I'll be back in a jiff." Quickly she grabbed a gift bag from under the library tree then went back to the drawing room and handed the package to Molly.

"What's this, Jean?"

"Oh it's nothing. Just a memory, really or a, what do they say, Lexie a blast from the past?" Lexie, who had taken a seat in one of the cushioned armchairs, smiled in agreement.

Molly sat down on one of the sofas and rested the heavy gift bag on a coffee table in front of her while Jean stood nearby, waiting excitedly for her friend's reaction. Carefully taking away some of the crinkly white tissue paper, Molly reached inside the bag. Before even removing the gift, she leaned back, putting a hand to her mouth and tapping her feet up and down on the floor, letting out a snicker saying, "Jean, you didn't!"

"Oh didn't I?"

Not being privy to the inside joke, Lexie was becoming more curious. "Molly, what is it?"

Molly pulled a pear-shaped bottle of liquor out of the gift bag all the while trying desperately to hold back her laughter.

"It's a bottle of _**Belle de Brillet**_, only the finest pear cognac produced in France!" Lexie turned up her nose with an air of distaste and mouthed the words, _pear cognac_, while the two older ladies burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, Lexie," Jean joined Molly on the couch and started to explain, "we don't mean to be rude and exclude you from this private bit of fun it's just your mother-in-law and I had quite a time one rather long Christmas holiday spent in France."

"Yes, trying to keep ourselves warm. We'd become a little too familiar with this liquor!"

"And a little too familiar with those who introduced us to it," added Jean, "Who was it, Jean-Luc or Jean-Pierre. Well, at any rate it was a Jean-somebody or other. Yes, such great times those were, Molly, such great times."

"And romantic, too but it was all innocent fun. A kiss on the hand here," Molly leaned back and held out a graceful hand.

"A lazy afternoon spent huddling under winter coats at a café there," added Jean.

"And you know," said Molly, "I would relive them all over again if I could."

With the amusement momentarily lost to memories, Lexie pointed to the pear tree and interjected, "So is that how the pear collection got started, then?"

"Yes, Lexie, I do believe it is!" This time, all three succumbed to another fit of laughter.

_**Kitchen, Glenbogle Estate**_

_**Welcoming Paul Bowman**_

Completely drenched, Paul took off his soaked jacket, draping it over a radiator before moving closer to the heated stove in an attempt to warm up.

"Sorry, Archie, I know I said I was planning to comeafter Christmas but the sale of my Mum's house ended up going through much earlier than I expected and without a hitch, so," Paul hesitated, "My father didn't tell you I was coming, did he?"

"No, but it's fine, really."

"Hope its not going to be too much of an imposition. I wanted to arrive for the New Year. Start off on the right foot and all that. And Donald, he really didn't tell you any of this?"

"Nope," Archie laughed and shook his head, "But like I said Paul, it's fine. Honestly? I think my Uncle's been avoiding me. But you're here now and you made it safely that's all that's important. Anyway, welcome!"

"Thanks, Archie." Seeing Jessica, Paul stepped forward to greet her. "Hi, don't believe we've met. I'm Archie's cousin, Paul Bowman. I'm Donald's son."

"Hi, I'm Jess, Golly's daughter."

"Ah, good to meet you, Jess—yes, I can see the resemblance."

While Golly and Archie continued to talk to Paul, Jess approached Ewan.

"Don't you think you should offer him something to eat?"

Ewan gave her the once-over. "Aye, what's gotten into you?"

"What?"

"You're going all googly-eyed on account of the awful-Paul-minable snowman over there."

"No, I'm not. And besides, he's way too old for me. He is nice to look at, though, I'll give 'im that much! What?"

"Nothing," Ewan frowned.

"Anaway, who's this Donald he referred to?"

"Ah, Donald is Hector's younger brother."

"Really, I didn't know Hector had any brothers or sisters."

"Yup, just the one, the one and only, I should say, Donald Ulysses MacDonald."

"But wait, didn't Paul say his last name was Bowdoin or something?"

"Aye, Bowman. Donald never even knew he had a son. Just found out a couple of months ago. You know, when Paul first came up here it was funny, he thought um," remembering that it was Golly whom Paul thought was his father at first, Ewan decided not to continue the story.

"He thought what?"

"Nah, he'd just never been to the area before. He was sort of a fish out of water. Then Molly thought he might have been Hector's love child!"

"Hmm," Jess gave a half facetious, half mischievous smile, "didn't know life in the Highlands could be so interesting!"

_**Library, Glenbogle Estate**_

"So Lionel, were you raised in London?"

"In Hampshire, actually though I did spend most of my youth at boarding school."

"Ah, another boarding school brat then, hmmm?"

"Yes I s'pose so and what about you, Donald? Obviously Glenbogle's your home, but did you remain in the area?"

"No, no. I've travelled the world and back. I was a race-car driver, Formula 1."

"Ah yes, thought your name sounded vaguely familiar."

"So how long have you and Jean been married?"

"Just over a year," Donald seemed surprised, "We were childhood sweethearts, you see then when I was posted to Korea, Jean and I lost touch for nearly forty years. As fate should have it, however we were fortunate enough to have been reunited. That's when I was writing the book on my experiences in Kenya that Jean mentioned earlier at dinner. Long story short, I contacted her secretarial agency for a typist and…"

"The rest is history, as they say. What a grand love story. I'm really a romantic at heart. You should write a novel about your story, Lionel."

"Well, let's just say I've been down that road, too," Lionel chuckled to himself, recalling the mockery his manuscript had turned into when the punched up account of their personal love story was tapped as possible fodder for an American television series. A few cheerios and jolly goods later and the botched script with a clearly Yank slant proved a ratings disaster thus settling the matter of whether or not Lionel would take up writing as his new profession. RIP to both.

"You mentioned Korea," Donald questioned, "I'm assuming you were in the army?"

"Yes. National Service, commissioned to the Middlesex Regiment, Second Leftenant Hardcastle."

"Ah. Well you know my son was in the army, too. An officer," Donald said, proudly.

"Really, what division, may I ask?"

Their conversation was interrupted as Ewan and Jess entered the library with dessert and coffee. Paul had followed behind.

"I was part of the paratroopers…"

Donald nearly fell out of his chair at the sight of his son.

_**Kitchen, Glenbogle Estate**_

Having partaken of the dessert and coffee the large group eventually disbanded. Paul and Donald went off to the solitude of the billiard room, Jean, Lionel, Molly and Lexie headed to their bedrooms, and Archie asked Golly to join him for a whiskey in the library to sit by the fire while the embers died down.

Back in the kitchen, Duncan had finally returned, rejuvenated by the presence of Jess; nourished by the left-over bits from the evening meal, all mashed together on his plate.

"So," Jess asked, closing the laptop on the desk in the corner, "when did you join the staff, Ewan?" She poured cream into the coffee Ewan had set out for her then pulled the sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands, placing them around the warm mug.

"It's coming up on just about two years now. They saved me, really. I was a bit of a terror. Can't tell you how many times your dad caught me, chatting up a young lass down by the boathouse," Ewan puffed up his chest while Jess rolled her eyes and Duncan snorted.

"How was it that they saved you, then?"

"Well, they had faith in me. Took a big chance on me, offering me this job, the MacDonald's did. I'd not a stitch of formal training. The telly was my teacher."

"What about you, Jess?" Duncan moved his plate to the sink as he spoke. "How's uni going? Golly tells me you'll be graduating this year, yea?"

Jess took a deep breath. "Aye, I will be."

"And then," Duncan inquired.

Jess stiffened and drained the last of her coffee from the mug. "You know what, boys I think it's getting late and I still have to make up our rooms so I'll see you in the morning." On that note, she abruptly left the room.

Walking by the library she met up with her dad and Archie.

"All set, Lass?"

"Yea, Dad."

"Is something wrong? If those two jokers are giving you any problems," Golly asserted.

"Them? No, believe me, Dad, I can handle them if need be. It's just been a long day. Archie, could you point me to the linen closet?"

"Yes, sure, follow me."

The three walked through a door beneath the main staircase then down an angled hall that led to a circular stairwell. Taking this up one floor, Jess noticed that even the lights going up along the wall were draped with holiday greenery. Archie directed them to a pair of adjoining rooms, the first of which would be for Jess. He opened the door and flicked on the light before doing the same for Golly. The linen closet was at the end of the hall. While Jess busied herself with the beds, Golly and Archie lit the logs in the fireplaces.

After leaving their rooms, Archie ran back down the stairs and made sure Ewan had prepared Duncan's room before returning to the main hall, where he found Donald climbing the stairs, retiring for the evening. They exchanged goodnights.

"Do you have a minute, Archie?"

"Sure, Paul, as long as you don't mind walking through the house with me, that is."

As they talked, Archie proceeded with his nightly routine, checking that the front door was double-locked and walking through every room, closing and latching the wooden shutters and in some rooms also pulling closed the drapes. The wind continued to blow wildly outside, sending tiny pellets of icy snow crashing against the windows, rattling the casements in a tympanic symphony all its own.

"Since my father didn't have the courage to tell you this himself, I feel I need to." Paul tugged on one of the deep red velvet drapes in the billiard room.

"Tell me what?"

"That I was actually planning to relocate up here."

Archie turned towards Paul and leaned against the billiard table. "Oh, well, I think that's great, Paul."

"Well, yes, it can be but…"

"You need a place to stay."

"Yes."

"And I presume you'd be looking for work?"

"Right again."

"Okay, we can talk about this right after the holidays, yea? We'll sit down together you, me, Lexie and Donald and try and sort it all out, all right?"

"Fine, that's really great, Archie."

"So where's all of your stuff?"

"Oh, yes, that's another thing I meant to mention. Um, I have my caravan parked by the garages—I fear it's probably blocking the way of some of the other vehicles, but I don't think anyone will be going joy riding in this anytime soon."

"Right," as he turned to leave the room, Archie whispered to himself an inaudible okay then turned back and pointed to the rooms across the hall which still needed closing up. Family, he kept reminding himself. Family was everything.

_**Jess and Golly's Guest Bedrooms, Glenbogle Estate**_

There was a knock on the door that connected Jess's room to her father's.

"I've finished with the loo, Jess."

"Okay, thanks Dad." Golly remained in the doorway. "Is there anything else?"

"Aye, did you call your mother, Lass? Let her know you're here?"

"No," Jess gathered her toiletries and walked to the hallway door. "I emailed her."

Golly made a face.

"What, Dad? It's the 21st Century, okay. That's how people communicate nowadays."

"Hmmm, seems to me that's how some people might cowardly communicate."

"Dad, please get off my back, all right? I didn't go home because I didn't want to listen to Mum, don't you start now too! Here's the hand butter I told you about," handing him the cream, Jess left her guest room in a huff.

_**Jean and Lionel's Guest Bedroom, Glenbogle Estate**_

Jean switched off her bedside lamp then fluffed up her pillow and snuggled down into the bed. She rubbed the final vestiges of hand lotion into her skin then smoothed the remainder over her face.

"You're not going to read all night, are you?"

"No," Lionel chuckled. "I just wanted to read the preface to this book that Donald suggested to me."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am actually. You were quite right, you know. This place casts some sort of spell over one."

"Well, there's that and there's also the fact that there are people waiting on you left and right, hand and foot."

"Ha, I guess you're right!" Lionel closed the book, laying it on the night table.

"Oh, dam and blast! I should have asked that Ewan chap to fetch you a hot water bottle for your feet."

"That's very gallant of you to think of that, Lionel. But Molly remembered that I always had cold feet and she'd already taken care of it!"

"Hmmm," Lionel grumbled.

"What are you thinking?"

"Just that well, I don't know. It must be nice to know someone who's so familiar with your own personal history."

"I'm familiar with your history, Lionel. Well, at least parts of it, anyway, the important bits."

"Yes, that you are, Jean," Lionel leaned over to give her a kiss before shutting off the lamp on his side of the bed.

"And now Molly knows of your penchant for custard tarts!"

"Hmm, yes I guess a relationship with you does have its perks!"

"It's interesting though, isn't it?"

"What's that, Jean?"

"That story about how Paul and Donald found each other; father and son. You know, Paul looks so familiar to me."

"Yes, he has one of those faces, doesn't he?"

"What do you mean?"

"He looks like one of those dashing young actors, you know, what's-his-name?"

"No, no. I mean I really think I've seen him before, I just can't seem to place him."

"Oh, well dream on it, love."

"Ooo, are you asking me to dream about another man, Lionel how risqué!"

"Speaking of being risqué, what was all that hullaballoo about that _Belle de…"_

"_Belle de Brillet_? Oh never mind, Lionel. It was a life-time ago!"

********


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

_**The Calm After the Storm**_

During the early morning hours the storm had nearly ended. When Ewan arose at sunrise faint rays of light struggled to burst forth as if the sky were paying atonement for the miserable, though admittedly beautiful, snowstorm it had sent the day before. In the peaceful calm of daybreak he watched a lone hawk gracefully gliding through the clear air, while below a thick, twinkling layer of snow covered the property like a soft, cottony blanket.

*****

The continental breakfast Ewan prepared with some much appreciated help from Jess was served buffet-style in the dining room. Guests and family ate leisurely, chatting, reading and even knitting, as Jean, a veteran of the craft, coached Lexie in the ins and outs of the hobby she had recently taken up. Some carried their coffees into the drawing room where the sun, now streaming in through the windows bounced off the various mirrors that surrounded the room, doubling the effects of the light and making the room simply glow.

Paul entered the dining room. Grabbing a plate from the sideboard, he lifted the lid on a chaffing dish, peering at its contents. "So, you're thatLionel Hardcastle, hmm?"

"Oh dear," interjected Jean, "Are there more than one of you, Lionel?" She and Lexie chuckled.

Disregarding her comment, Lionel said, "I'm sorry?"

"You're a writer, aren't you?"

"Well," Lionel beamed, smoothing out his tie.

"I recognized you from your picture on the book jacket. You wrote about your time in Kenya, yea?"

"Yes, I did. So you read it, did you?" Lionel was trying to act all casual and humble at the same time.

"Yes."

"Lionel! Lionel!" Donald called from the drawing room, "Come here old boy, we need your expert opinion on a matter of the greatest urgency!"

Lexie laughed at Donald's silliness and Jean teased, "You'd better go, Your Highness. Your royal subjects, nay minions, are waiting upon you."

"Excuse me," Lionel left the table, sneering jokingly at his wife as he passed by her.

"Certainly," Paul sat down at the head of the table. He had a plate heaping full of food.

Sure her husband was out of earshot, Jean asked, "So tell me, Paul, did you really read Lionel's book?"

"Mm-hm."

"And you liked it?"

"Sure. I mean, what's not to like, I picked it up for a pound in the discount bin at _Waterstone's_." He smiled then impishly whispered, _Shhh_!

*****

Virtually trapped within the house, this is how the rest of the day progressed, though in reality Golly, Duncan, Archie and Paul were able to venture outside, keeping up on the various tasks that needed their attention. But the idea of having to remain inside, with warm fires blazing, surrounded by good company and good fun was infinitely more appealing.

_**Kitchen, Glenbogle Estate**_

"Och, Ewan! What are you making, besides a heck of a lot of noise!?"

The young chef was running a hand blender while a CD of some techno band playing their syncopated electronic versions of popular Christmas carols blared on in the background.

"Hey, Jess!" Ewan shouted over the music then reached back and lowered the volume on his boom box, "Want a taste?" He poured a small amount of a creamy, pale-yellow mixture into a glass beaker and slid it across the table to Jess.

She picked up the glass and sniffed at it. "Whoa! What's this?"

"It's Hector's eggnog. A specialty! I found the recipe when I was looking through the cookbooks." He handed her a brittle, age-worn piece of paper, written in Hector's messy, scrawled hand. "Of course, it hasn't got the whipped egg whites on top of it yet—they'll need to be refrigerated for a couple of hours first."

Before taking a sip, Jess took the recipe and read out loud, "_Hector's Spirited Christmas Eggnog_. Wow! This is really strong, but really good! It should be called Hector's 100 proof Christmas Eggnog! What is that, brandy?"

"Yup, almost half the bottle," Ewan grinned.

"What about…"

"Yea, don't worry, I've got a virgin-version made too!"

_**Dining Room, Glenbogle Estate**_

Paul walked into the dining room as Jess was bringing items in to set the table.

"Anything I can help with?"

"Aye, I was supposed to wait for Ewan to put the extra table leaves in," Jess explained, "but maybe you could help me with that?"

"Sure."

"Okay, he said they were somewhere in the butler's pantry?"

The two went in search of the partitions.

"So, Golly tells me you're in your last year at uni. That's great, Jess. He's really proud of you, you know."

"Yea, well, I don't know how proud he's going to be when I tell him," Jess shook her head and moved aside a chair. She grabbed hold of one end of a leaf.

"When you tell him what?"

"Listen, I don't even know you. Why are we discussing this?"

"No, you're right," Paul lifted the other end of the partition then took the whole piece and walked it into the dining room. "Look, I'm sorry, didn't mean to pry. Only it sounded like you were going to say you might not finish."

Jess stood with her arms across her chest, and her jaw set. "Just what would you know about my life, anaway, huh?"

"Nothing but Golly's a good man and from what I've heard the two of you share many of the same traits, obviously one of which is being stubborn!" Jess shot him a look. "You probably don't know this, but my mum and your dad were the closest of friends, many, many years ago. When my Mum passed away a few months ago I came up here to…well, I came in search of my father."

"Yea, Ewan told me the story," Jess went back into the pantry to grab another table leaf.

"Oh, did he?"

"Aye and I'm sorry about your mum."

"Thanks," Paul pressed on. "Did Ewan tell you that I thought your dad was my father?"

Stunned Jess spun around to look at Paul as he stepped back into the pantry.

"Well, I did. I came charging up here, I made a real arse of myself. Accused him of having left my mother high and dry, I did. Anyway it wasn't the case and we got it all sorted out. He was very gracious about the whole thing, taking it all in stride and even solving the mystery about who my father really was. And I'm grateful that I've met Donald and that we're really getting to know one another but I would have been just as honored to have had Golly as my father."

"So what are you saying to me, that I owe him?"

"No all I'm saying, Jess is to take my advice, tough it out. You've come this far. Graduate, get your degree at least then you'll always have something to fall back on. Then take it from there, one step at a time."

"Oh, hi," Lexie called out to the pair from the dining room. "Is everything under control in here?"

"Yup," Jess joined Lexie, "But how many place settings should I put out?"

"Um, let's see," Lexie used her fingers to keep count, "Fifteen. You know there's a latch underneath the table that you have to unlock first."

"Right." Jess crouched under the table, seeking out the lock.

"I'm sorry, Lex," Paul interjected, "but by my count 12 places should be set not 15 and that includes the staff."

"It's fifteen, Paul. Trust me," Lexie spoke firmly then smiled. "Okay, I'm off to check on things in the kitchen. Track me down if you have any questions."

As Lexie left the room, Paul said, "Hmm maybe Father Christmas and some of his little elves are planning on stopping by for a merry cup of cheer, 'eh?"

Despite the strained atmosphere, Jess giggled, nearly hitting her head on the table as she rose from the floor.

_**Drawing Room, Glenbogle Estate**_

As the grandfather clock in the entrance hall struck 7pm everyone started gathering in the drawing room. Duncan had brought Hector's old Victrola down from the attic—with Molly's permission—and set it to play records of classic Christmas favorites. Ewan and Jess brought in two huge bowls of egg nog setting them each on separate tables. One was identified as Hector's Spirited Eggnog while the other, whose ladle was bedecked with a curly garland made of silvery stars so as to set it apart, was deemed Hector's Egg-without-the-Nog, specifically for the Mum-to-be and any amongst them who were truly virtuous. Ewan played impromptu bartender, ladling out the concoctions, topping glasses with a dollop of egg whites and a dusting of nutmeg as a finishing touch.

While others seemed to be enjoying the festivities, Golly noticed Molly slip out a side door. He found her standing in the main entrance hall by the huge spruce, lightly touching one of the bulbs. Though hesitant at first he found his resolve and slowly he approached. He placed a hand on her upper back and rubbed her shoulders gently.

"It's Hector's Nog and Snog, hmmm," Golly softly asked. Though Molly shook her head yes, she didn't speak. "Och, Lass. I know this is tough for you but in years to come these memories, the ones that are so painful for you now are the very ones you'll remember and laugh with fondness about, in future."

Molly allowed herself to be comforted by Golly, blinking her eyes, holding back the tears that hadn't fallen.

Finding her voice, she said, "Hector always trusted you and your judgment Golly and I can see why. You are a very wise man. Thank you for understanding and for being here for me and for my family."

As they stood arm-in-arm, a loud sound, almost like that of a roaring engine soared over the house, interrupting their quiet reverie.

"Oh, they must be here!"

Together they went into the drawing room, joining the others who were kneeling on the window seats with their noses pressed up against the windows, trying to figure out what sort of contraption with the whirling propellers and flashing lights was trying to land on the banks of the icy loch. In on the surprise, Archie, Golly, Duncan and Ewan went out the side door, throwing down some huge canvas tarps. Three figures emerged from the small aircraft and as they moved closer to the house, Jean recognized them immediately.

"Oh my goodness! Lionel, do you see who it is?" Lionel squinted and peered through the glass again, shading his eyes from the light in the room.

"Molly," an exciting Jean asked, "did you do this?"

Molly smiled and pulled Jean closer to the door where the surprise guests were entering. Two women and a man stepped inside, all flush from the cold and grinning like Cheshire cats.

From the background there was an exclamation, "Oh, now I see who's here, Jean. It's the young folks, up from London!"

Jean stepped forward to hug her daughter, "Hello, Love," she kissed and greeted the other two. She introduced them, "Everyone, this is Sandy a family friend who also now runs my secretarial agency with my daughter, Judith," she pointed to her daughter, "and this is here is Judith's boyfriend."

"Ahem, excuse me Mother for interrupting but," Judy pulled off a pair of brown suede gloves and held out her left hand, "he's my _fiancé_, now. Alistair Deacon and I are engaged!"

"Oh, Judy!!! Oh, Alistair!!! Oh how wonderful!!!" Another round of hugs and kisses were gladly given and received, as everyone whooped and hollered and toasted the engaged couple.

The house was now alive with the energy, joy and love of family and friends, reminiscent of the glorious gatherings so common in years past.

At Jess's announcement that dinner was about to be served the men vied for the honor of escorting a lady into the dining room. With a roll of her eyes and a gentle, _now boys_, reprimand, Molly allowed both Golly and Donald to escort her, clearing the way as they passed, three astride. Next were Judy and Alistair, followed by Lexie and Archie, then Jean and Lionel, while Paul approached Sandy.

"Sandy?"

Hearing this, Jean stopped Lionel mid-walk, telling him to slow down his gait so as not to let on that she was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Paul? Paul Bowman? I thought it might be you. How lovely it is to see you." They exchanged a quick kiss on the cheeks.

"I wasn't sure it was you at first," said Paul.

"Yes, well," Sandy laughed and touched her stylishly cropped hair, "These days I've been keeping my hair quite a bit shorter than I used to years ago."

"Ah yes, must be it, that."

"What on earth are you doing here, Paul?"

"Well," offering her an arm, Paul began retelling his now infamous tale.

Rushing to get to their seats, Jean whispered to Lionel things such as, '_Aha!'_ And '_she knew she had recognized Paul!_ ' And '_wouldn't it be wonderful if_…' While Lionel interjected a few _Jean's_ in a warning tone, and _a_ few_ let them be's_ before abandoning all to the glorious array set out before them.

********


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

_**The North Pole is Located in the Highlands**_

One of the first to awaken on Christmas morning, Archie did his best not to disturb his wife as he slipped out of their bed and tip-toed barefoot across the worn carpets and cold wooden floor to the short hallway that connected their room to his father's old bedroom. He turned the knob slowly, pushing open the antique door inch by inch so the creaking would only sound a faint hiss. He was able to make his way through the room without the need for lights, running his fingers along the chair rail until he reached a large wooden wardrobe. Always prone to sticking, he gave both handles a sharp tug. A little oil in the hinges would no doubt have done the trick, he knew. But his father had never done so. And so they remained.

Though filling him with a mix of comfort and sorrow, Archie breathed in the heavy scent of the wardrobe—his father's memory—like an ex-smoker still finding it difficult not to inhale deeply when cigarette smoke is in the air. Reaching further into the depths of the cupboard he searched for his wife's gift which he'd hidden away weeks before for safe-keeping. Some of Hector's festive and ceremonial clothing still hanging in the corners of the cupboard swayed back and forth eerily in his hunt. Permeated with the smell of moth balls it seemed a shame the costumes would require airing out in the strong Scottish winds if ever to be worn again as ironically the back panel and shelves of the wardrobe were all made of cedar, thus negating the need for any wretched, synthetic repellants.

Safely back in his bedroom Archie placed the package at the foot of the bed and tried to sneak back under the bedcovers.

"Where were you off to so early?" Lexie spoke drowsily as she rolled onto her left side, propping her head up on her elbow.

"Um, just having a look round, see whether or not Father Christmas left us with more than just a lump of coal!"

Lexie laughed and leaned over to give her husband a kiss then moved across the bed to nestle beside him. "Happy Christmas, Archie."

"Happy Christmas, Sweetheart. You know when I was young Jamie convinced me that we lived at the North Pole."

"Really, och, Arch, I can't think of you as being that gullible."

"Well I was only four or five. Anyway, one year he told me that if we climbed to the very top of the estate's tower we would enter this magical kingdom and there would be the North Pole."

"So did you go along with it?"

"Oh aye, we were never allowed up in the tower so I assumed that was the reason."

"Molly and Hector didn't want you finding out that Father Christmas was a lodger, 'eh?" Lexie snickered at her own comment.

"So one Christmas Eve up the circular staircases the two of us went carrying our torches to light the way. When we finally made it to the top I was so overjoyed, but scared in a way, too because I kept thinking, what if Father Christmas really was standing up there waiting to cross us off his _good list_?" Lexie snickered again. "When Jamie pushed the door open this burst of fresh, frosty air struck me with such force that I truly believed with every fiber of my being that we did indeed have a secret portal to the North Pole right here at Glenbogle. Of course, me being so small and the tower ledge being so high all I could see were the tops of the snow-covered mountains no treetops or anything else that would indicate the horizon. It was so peaceful and quiet. And Jamie just let me be no joking or fooling around. We just stood there taking it all in. I knew it was the real thing, it had to be. It was such a special time. In my mind, that's what the North Pole will always look like to me."

"Oh Archie, that was such a beautiful story, such a beautiful memory." When she glanced up at him she noticed that although smiling, he had tears in his eyes. "Promise me something, will you?"

"Yes, anything," he pressed his thumb and forefinger into his closed eyes.

"Promise me you'll always keep that magic in your heart and on all the Christmas Eves of the future you'll take our children up to see the North Pole. And tell them all about their Uncle Jamie."

_**Golly's Guest Bedroom, Glenbogle Estate**_

There was a soft knock on Golly's door.

"It's open."

The door opened slowly.

"Molly," Golly smiled broadly, "Happy Christmas to you, Lass."

"Happy Christmas, Golly." Awkwardly, Molly reached out her hand for Golly to shake but at the last minute, stepped forward to hug him.

"I just wanted to," she hesitated, "make sure your accommodations were working out all right."

"Oh, yes, yes they're fine, really," the ghillie assured her.

"And Jessica, settled in, has she?"

"Aye, she has, Molly. Thanks for asking."

"How's everything between the two of you?"

"Could be better, could be worse. You know children, Molly. Adult children, I mean!"

"Yes, I dare say, I guess I do," she laughed. "Well I hear footsteps about so I guess I should go and check on my other guests."

"Okay, aye you do that, Lass and I'll see you in a bit." As Golly watched Molly leave he mulled over her words, saying she should check on her other guests. Golly was not a guest at Glenbogle. A hired hand, hard worker, trusted liegeman, resident, and maybe even a confidant. But he would never be considered a guest_. _Not in his mind, at least.

_**The Drawing Room, Glenbogle Estate**_

As a special surprise for everyone and in particular Ewan and Jess, the generous and wealthy—but not Lord Kilwillie-wealthy as he was quick to add—for those with money seemed to run in the same circles, Alistair Deacon had arranged for the Christmas Day Brunch to be catered. Being reassured that his modish English guest had everything under control, Archie asked no logistical questions, confidently leaving Alistair with the cooks and servers and a brewing pot of coffee.

Slowly the family and guests began trickling down the stairs and, without fail, like eager young children each and every one glanced at the large spruce upon reaching the bottom step of the main staircase in hopes, perhaps that a package or two had been mysteriously left under the tree for them.

"Well," Molly gasped with delight, "it seems as though everyone has had the same idea."

"Aye," said Ewan, "Jess, Duncan and I checked. There seems to be at least one gift for everyone here!"

"So, I take it you'd like us to open them over brunch?"

"Well Molly," said Ewan coyly, "if that's what you're suggesting."

"Molly! Did I ever tell you how cognac is made?" Donald's voice came booming from the drawing room. "Most people don't realize it's made from fermented grapes! Aged for a few years in oak barrels and, as with this one here, for example," he held up the bottle of liquor Jean had brought as a gift for Molly, "the cognac is infused with the essence of the pears."

"Save it, Donald! I am not opening that bottle of _Belle de Brillet_!"

***

There were many oohs and aahs as gift after gift was opened. Some, like Lionel and Golly felt a wee bit foolish taking their turns at ripping open their packages, while Donald could hardly wait his turn, shouting his oh my's and thank you's in between bites of sausage roll. Archie tried to contain his laughter when opening a squishy package which revealed a pair of mismatched woolen slippers, lovingly knit by Lexie. With one clearly longer than the other he saved himself, and perhaps even his marriage, by declaring that the lengthier one would look quite nifty hung from the mantel as a Christmas stocking—because surely, he cheekily added, there was plenty of room for a lot of packages!

Ewan, thinking his parents may have sent a present or two up to the house without him knowing was shocked to learn that his gifts were actually from the MacDonalds. There was a personally-signed copy of Nigella's latest cookbook, courtesy of a smooth-talking Donald who seemed to still have some connections here and there, a two-year subscription to _Gourmet Cuisine _magazine and the latest techno CDs from a few of his favorite, _indian_ _rocker groups_ as Molly had referred to them, explaining in detail how she'd bought each of his mates a pint at the _Ghillie's Rest_, bribing them for the information about which _records_ she should purchase.

Duncan was a little disappointed at his gift of a new oatmeal-colored, cable-knit cardie which everyone wholeheartedly insisted he needed. All hard-feelings were forgiven, however when upon lifting the sweater from the cardboard box a set of keys to a posh little, gently used speedboat he'd had his eye on for quite some time dropped into his lap. His only regret was that he'd probably have to wait until the spring before having the chance to give it a go.

With Lexie showing off her new tennis bracelet, confessing that the rest of the gift from her husband was strictly for their eyes only and with an elegant silk scarf, a box of fine Belgian chocolates, a much-sought-after bottle of French perfume and a handsome black leather agenda book with matching _Mont Blanc_ pen all exchanged, the Christmas Brunch ended on a very pleasant note.

********


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

_**Tea & Sympathy; Beer & Bonding**_

As the men traipsed down to Golly's workroom in a lower hall to watch a late-afternoon football match on his portable telly, Alistair and Donald retired to the dining room, keen to pick each other's brains about new business ventures, trying to out-do one another with tales of the grandest schemes they had ever managed to pull off. Molly and Jean gave Judy and Sandy a tour of the house, pointing out all of the charming features while Lexie and Jess attempted to clean up the post-brunch debris as wads of crumpled gift wrap and ribbons were strewn about the drawing room like large pieces of colorful confetti.

"Can I ask you something, Lexie?" Finding a bit of hot water still left in the silver carafe, Jess poured a cup of tea for each of them.

"Yea, sure, Jess."

"Are you happy?" Taken a little by surprise, Lexie sat down on a window seat and pondered the question. She stretched her legs out along the pale gold-colored cushion, resting the cup and saucer on her lap. "I'm sorry," Jess waved off the question, "I shouldn't have asked. I mean of course you're happy, just look at you, you look happy."

"Do I? Aye, I am very happy but it's not something I take for granted, you know?"

"Did you always know what you wanted to do?"

"Me? Och, no, are you kidding? Being a housekeeper wasn't exactly my dream job. Thought I'd end up in fashion or maybe even in music, something having to do with entertainment. But life happens. My life wasn't the greatest growing up. My Mum was, no she _is_," Lexie corrected, "very self-centered! She's getting better, though. So in my youth, as it were, I had to do a lot for myself."

"Uh-huh," Jess joined Lexie on the window seats.

"The MacDonalds saved me from myself, really. And from whatever else was out there. Eventually I was able to find happiness here at Glenbogle. My work was rewarding because I was appreciated, even if Hector did grouse now and again about my terrible cooking," Jess laughed at the statement. "Despite all of the bumps along the way though, everything ended up okay. Sometimes you just never know where life's going to take you. You have to follow your heart, but you also have to be smart about it, too."

Jess took Lexie's generous, valuable words to mind, glancing out the window at the whitened landscape, wondering if Glenbogle would save her as it had obviously done for countless others.

"Hello girls didn't expect I'd still find you both in here."

"Hi Jean," said Jess, "Guess we got a little carried away gabbing. I should really finish picking up this mess, though."

"Oh no, Jess let one of the men do that," Jean saw Jess bristle slightly, "That's not to say you couldn't carry the trash out yourself, but you've already done the hard part, picking up all of the little bits and pieces. Now just leave the bulky stuff for the men to do. Listen, it makes them feel important and useful, like they're needed. Come on, Lexie. Back me up here," Jean laughed, "Am I right?"

"Aye," replied Lexie. There was a commotion in the hallway just beyond the door. "What's going on?"

"Ah well that's what I came to tell you. I'm rounding everyone up because Alistair's taking us all out for a drink at the _Ghillie's Pub_ or something."

"At the _Ghillie's Rest_, you mean?"

"Yes, that's it. I can just see the whole lot of us converging on the establishment, en masse. Actually, it should be jolly good fun!"

_**The Ghillie's Rest**_

Instead of being overwhelmed the barkeep welcomed the influx of the group of fifteen. Not as much for the distraction for himself but for the other villagers, the very ones for whom he kept the establishment open even on the holidays, whenever he possibly could. It seemed too cruel to let those not fortunate enough to have anyone to spend the holidays with be alone, cooped up in their tiny, drafty old crofts.

Fitting themselves in amongst the other patrons, Lexie, Jess, Sandy and Judy all huddled around a table in the corner near the fireplace; Duncan, Ewan, Archie, Paul and Alistair stood at the bar while the rest seated themselves at a few tables in the center.

"So Sandy tell us, was it weird seeing your ex here," Jess questioned her as she slipped off her parka and sat.

"Yea, Sandy. He's quite good-looking. I'm surprised you let him get away in the first place," Judy teased her friend, elbowing her arm.

"Oh, I was so young, in my early twenties. Paul's actually a couple years older than me. The break-up was amicable though. I think we were just looking for different things. He wanted to settle down and start a family, wanted to have a wife and kids to come home to and at that point my job was turning into a career and I wanted my independence more than anything. Still had a few wild oats to sow, I did!"

"And now," Judy asked.

"Now, Judy? What do you mean by now?"

"Well, were there any sparks on Christmas Eve? I noticed you two were a bit chummy."

"No!" Sandy laughed, as did they all, causing their group of young men to look over in their direction.

"You could do with a good romance just about now," Judy egged her on.

"Look, he was a really sweet, funny bloke but it just didn't work out. End of story there's no future for us…_Jean_." By deliberately calling Judy by her mother's name, someone who was known for meddling, for butting-in where she shouldn't necessarily, the message that the discussion was closed was sent loud and clear, even for the joke of it. "I don't know. What I really want right now is just a normal, stable, kind fellow who doesn't have any baggage." They all toasted, clinking their glasses together at the sentiment.

"You want a knight in shining armor then," Lexie ventured, stirring her mug of hot cocoa.

Sandy and Judy laughed, remembering Alistair's attempt to woo Judy while in full armor, riding forth on a white horse, no less.

"Sorry ladies…inside joke! I just want someone who'd be as comfortable wearing an overcoat as he would be wearing an anorak. Do you really think I'm aiming too high?" They all giggled. "What about you, Jess?" Sandy took the focus off of herself by countering the younger woman's first question with one of her own.

"What about me," Jess laughed between sips of ale.

"Are there any worthy guys at uni?"

"No. Well I mean there've been a few but, I don't know."

"What about them?" Sandy tilted her head towards the bar.

"Who? Och, you mean Ewan and Duncan?"

Lexie giggled, "Well, you could do worse!"

"I don't know," Jess shook her head, her smile dissolving. "I guess I just have other concerns right now"

"Now what does a young, vibrant girl such as you have to worry about?" Judy genuinely sounded as though she cared which in turn, touched Jess.

"Och you lot don't want to hear any of this."

"Yes, we do. Just think of us as your three big sisters," Judy glanced sideways at Lexie, "though some of us are clearly bigger than others!"

"Hey, what cheek," Lexie shouted humorously.

"Judy's right," Sandy reached across the table and patted Jess's arm, "amongst the three of us, we've a lot of experience. So lay it on us, yea?"

"Well," Jess took a deep breath. "I just feel like I don't have anything figured out right now. Everyone keeps telling me to stay in school and keep on track but to what end? I don't even know what I want to do with my life." The men at the bar were hooting and hollering, causing quite a ruckus as they responded to a story one of them had told, annoying Jess even further.

"I bet you're feeling a little invisible right now, too, hmm?"

"Aye, that's it, yes," sensing a real connection to the women, Jess seemed to relax a little.

"You're not supposed to have everything all mapped out for you yet. I mean now's your chance to explore and make mistakes and take life for all it's worth!"

"You seem so sure of yourself, Sandy. Did you know always know what you wanted to do?"

"No, of course not, Jess! Here's my story. I'd won a scholarship to a secretarial program and I liked dealing with people and I enjoyed being in different environments so when Jean hired me as a temp, I was all set. The job enabled me to travel all around the city, go into different offices and such. I'm a very organized person and I liked the secretarial aspects of the job but I was looking to take on more responsibilities when Jean offered me the position as her personal secretary. Then eventually, as you know, I came to run the company with Judy. But it didn't happen overnight. I simply plodded along and, well, there you have it!"

"My story was a little different," Judy interjected, "I went to business school and had no idea what I was going to do with the degree. I decided to join my mother's agency. Well I mean it was convenient, wasn't it? But nothing was given to me. I learned the hard way that if there's something you really want, you have to work for it. When Mum talked about retiring I just assumed I would step into her place. But she didn't feel I was ready to run the agency. And she was absolutely right, I wasn't ready yet! It's not that I didn't have the skills; I just still had some growing up to do! I was spoiled, coming in late, leaving on a whim whenever Alistair rang up to say he wanted to jet me off somewhere. It was a very humbling experience."

"But these were all challenges we had to face to become the women you see today," explained Sandy, "and Lexie, I'm sure you've had similar experiences too. See Jess, the more challenges you face and conquer the more you'll start seeing of the real you. Trust us."

By the end of the evening their entire group had commandeered about eight tables in the center of the pub, around which they laughed, sang and even drank all of their troubles away.

********


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

_**New Year; New Prospects?**_

Because all of the guests had planned to stay on through New Year's Day, and because Wednesday, the 26th of December was a day like any other in the business world, Archie made the Estate Office and a few desks in the library available to the guests who, like himself, were die-hard work-a-holics. With the weekend soon approaching there would be plenty of time for outdoor sport once their minds were at ease that their life's work would still be there when they returned from holiday. But there was still something to be said about toiling in an environment that wasn't one's own and the opportunity to steal away for a cup of coffee and a quick chat with whomever happened to be in the vicinity was a nice little festive perk, indeed.

Two of the most industrious among them, Alistair borrowed Lionel's car for the purpose of setting out to re-establish business acquaintances he knew in the area while making just as many new ones, while Paul made a point of shadowing one of the Estate staff, including Archie, each and every day. Under the guise that he was simply offering a helpful hand because he was there, Paul shrewdly observed every aspect of the workings of Glenbogle, making mental notes here and there and pitching in whenever possible. He followed Duncan through the maze of animal pens, grounds and various centers and listened attentively, though admittedly with some skepticism to Golly as he described how he could tell what weather was coming by reading the clouds and explaining when and where the ice on the loch would give way first. And although not a stranger to hard work he didn't feel his talents would be best suited for this type of labor but the background knowledge, Paul was certain, was very important to have.

Paul's time spent with Archie, watching the day to day running of the Estate fascinated him. Hour to hour, minute to minute the atmosphere changed as the Laird's responsibilities pulled him off in different directions. Though he thought it silly to walk around with such a title as Laird stuck to one's name, he admired his cousin's position and the ease with which Archie seemed to handle all of the different situations he found himself in. Paul was careful to stay in the periphery, refraining from giving any advice. And each night before going to bed he would jot down his notes, thoughts and ideas in the leather agenda his father had given him for Christmas. Perhaps Donald's plan for their future would be plausible after all.

_**Basement, Glenbogle Estate**_

In search of her father's workroom, Jess walked down the circular staircase which wound around a service lift, following the sounds of banging and other noises which echoed throughout the cavernous space.

"Dad," Jess weaved through the warren of rooms in the lower floor, "Daaaad, are ye here?" A quarter turn and she'd found his work area. "Oh, hi, what are you doing?" Jess moved further into the area, "Is that a doll house?"

"Mm-hmm."

Slowly she walked round the table where he was working, properly eyeing the miniature house. She noted a tiny sign above the door that said _Jessica's House_. Golly took notice.

His voice tentative, Golly said, "I started making this for you many, many years ago, Jess."

"Wow, really?"

"I thought maybe I'd restore it for…"

"Aye, you mean for the new baby? Is Lexie having a girl?"

"Well instinct tells me she's going to bare a wee Lassie, yes but I've no knowledge of that, no one's actually said. So," Golly pleaded.

"Don't worry, Dad I won't say a word. But I think it's a great idea!"

"Do you? You don't mind," Golly hesitated, "I mean it'd been meant for you."

"No not at all, it's not like I'm going to be playing with it now. It was very sweet, though. And I'd like it to go to someone who will appreciate it and you'll have plenty of time to make another one when by brood comes along somewhere down the line."

Golly laughed, "Ah from your lips to God's ears, child but as you've said somewhere down the line. You've a little bit of life to live first."

"Right," Jess took a deep breath for courage, "um, wanted to talk to you about that. I'm sorry for being so moody. Just had some things to sort out, me."

"Was one of those things returning to uni?"

"Aye—wait, how did you know that I wasn't thinking 'bout returning? Wow, these MacDonalds and their friends, they really get in your business, don't they?"

Golly shrugged, "They're good people, Jess."

"Yup, I know that, Dad. Anaway yes, I'm going back to finish but I might take some time off after I graduate."

"Okay but you've got to discuss all of this with your Mum too, all right?"

"Yup."

"Now give me a hand, here Lass. Roof replacement is always a bit tricky!"

********

_**Glenbogle Estate**_

With Hogmanay now upon them and the activities of cross-country skiing, snowmobiling, long walks and even the occasional snow-ball fight out of their systems, the guests and members of the household did their best to enjoy the festivities though they were tempered with the thought that this wonderful time was coming to an end.

As Archie put the finishing touches on the traditional black bun—which he personally baked every year, and Duncan obtained bottles of champagne from the wine cellar, Jess carried a tray of crackers wrapped in New Year's decorations out to the entrance hall then joined the others who had gathered round Golly. He was telling them of the significance of Hogmanay, what it meant to first foot and what the person, usually a tall, dark-haired male should bring to ensure good luck for the house—for there was an ancient belief, possibly stemming from the Vikings, that a blond on one's doorstep indicated trouble. With this having been said Archie entered the hall greeted with cheers and clapping. Proudly he carried the black bun on a tiered stand, setting it down on a table that was covered with the MacDonald clan's tartan. Then he made the announcement that he was bestowing the first foot honor—usually his enact, to Paul, his first cousin who was the newest member of the family to have entered the house. Paul accepted the appointment graciously, conferring with his father on the proper form of the custom.

So it was with great surprise that just before the stroke of midnight, as Sandy was touching up her make-up in the loo just off the foyer and Paul was preparing to go out a side entrance that there should be three solid raps at the front door.

Simply out of habit, Sandy called out, "I'll get it," and pulled open the heavy paneled doors. Face to face she came with a very distinguished-looking gentleman with piercing blue eyes, blond hair—of all things—and wearing a handsome deep-black overcoat of what appeared to be boiled wool.

"Oh, hello," said Sandy quite surprised and giddy.

"Hello," taken a bit off-guard the man quickly regained his composure and smiled warmly. "Happy New Year well," he laughed then glanced at his wrist watch and handed her a small lump of coal, "almost!"

"Oh, thank you," Sandy expressed amusement at the offering, "Won't you come in, please?"

Without taking his eyes off of Sandy, the man, still holding a bottle of liquor and a tin of short bread under his arm, entered the Glenbogle Estate.

Just inside the double doors Jean was nudging Lionel, smiling and raising her eyebrows, while he rolled his eyes in response. There was whispering about who the mystery man was as they all edged closer until Lexie, pushing and shoving her way to the front of the group, was able to have a good squint. And with one loud squeal of delight, she shouted out, "Hey everybody, it's Fleming!"

_**The End**_


End file.
